The Love and Horror Here

Our Good Friend, Mothman

Omen of the air
They call him harbinger of fate, of destruction
"Stare too long into those red, red eyes," they say, "and see beyond time itself... if only you dare."
By nature or science, by Earth or space, we know not where he comes from
Be he bird or moth or man, we dare not ask
For fear of his wrath, his haunting roar,
As he perches atop the doomed Bridge
And considers its fate.
In Point Pleasant, he makes his home, his haunt for now,
But where will he go when it's all over,
When the deeds of fate are fulfilled and there is nothing more to warn against
Here in this sleepy town,
Will he return to his forever home or is it simply onto the next disaster?
He is hunted, sought after, his visions demanded by men with suits of deepest black,
But he is more elusive still than these pretenders of flesh;
He flies away into the dark, becoming one with stars and shadow,
You'll never see him unless he wants to be seen.